Servant of Death
by Makarios
Summary: An elf-child born, born unable to die. Her origins are a mystery, raised by the Vala Mandos, friend to Death. This is a collection of her adventures before the dawning of the Third Age. Glorfindel x OC x OC
1. FIRST AGE 295

YEARS OF THE SUN  
>FIRST AGE 295<p>

The only knowledge of the child's origins was Thurichel, meaning secret daughter; the name that was written on a single scrap of parchment in beautiful looping letters. The elfling babe was left at the entrance to the hall of Mandos, carried there by Death itself. For this babe was not an ordinary child. This small abandoned creature had gazed into Death's blind eyes and still did not die. Even the Maiar were subject to Death should it come for them. To the Vala Namo, best known as Mandos, was the elfling entrusted. Since she could not die perhaps it was natural that she should grow up surrounded by death. Thurichel was assumed as her ataresse or father name since it was the one given.


	2. FIRST AGE 327

YEARS OF THE SUN  
>FIRST AGE 327<p>

The elfling's laughter filled the usually sombre halls and in danced the elven child. Tiny and pale with eyes of sparkling gray she appeared to be one of the Noldor race with her long sweeping black hair, though none could say for certain. For her hair was not entirely black but instead shot through with strands of silver and grays of varying shades and those that had lived in the time of the trees likened her pale skin and unique hair to the great tree Telperion.

Though she had no mother, Vaire the wife of Namo, who had grown fond of the child, took it upon herself to give the child her amilesse, or mother name. So it was that Thurichel became known as Minorniel, or first tree, reflecting in her the light of the greatly loved Telperion and it was by this name that the dead in the Halls of Waiting and those in Valinor came to know her best.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>the chapters will get MUCH longer don't worry lol, these are sort of the intro chapters separated according to year


	3. FIRST AGE 345

YEARS OF THE SUN  
>FIRST AGE 345<p>

Minorniel stood in the Halls of Waiting, walking silently past the dead souls who gazed at her as she moved. A child she appeared to them, yet older than any would guess, at the age of fifty she appeared a young lithe girl at the beginning of puberty. Yet she was still beautiful and very much alive, tall for her age and slight of frame, her shimmering hair falling to her waist, wild and unrestrained. A silver circlet adorned her forehead with a clear white stone in the center that shimmered with a captivating light. A similar stone was centered in an elaborate silver belt that gathered the black robes at her waist around her thin body. Grey eyes sparkled as she smiled at them, souls of men who would depart on ships into the west never to return. It was said even her caretaker Namo, the keeper of the dead, did not know where they went.

Walking barefoot through the halls, the souls of men whom had been there longer and recognized her would greet her. Minorniel curtsied with a kind of willowy grace and ethereal smile before gliding on. Today she did not look at the tapestries of Vaire, nor did she pause and talk with the newly arrived and beg for news of the strange land beyond where she had never been. Instead she walked quickly through the Halls, unhurried but with purpose, for here time meant nothing and she knew naught of it.

Minorniel had spent all of her days in these Halls, she would occasionally play in the sea just outside the castle's western border, but she had never seen the other parts of Valinor. She knew of those beyond and had met many Maiar and other Valar but was seen mostly seated by the side of Namo himself or weaving with Vaire or especially with Nienna, comforting the souls in the Hall. Today would not be a day for any such frivolities, for today Death had come personally to see her. It would come every ten years on this day for Death had grown fond of her, this elfling who could not die from its gaze, and she was company for it, something it had never had before.

Walking into her room Minorniel closed the door and locked it, to keep all others out, for if they walked in and laid eyes upon Death they would die. Not that the concern was so great in a house of death, but it was good to be careful. As she turned from the door Minorniel's eyes fell upon the figure of an elven Lord and she curtsied with her strange kind of grace and smiled invitingly.

"Gurthchir," she greeted, the name she'd insisted on calling it, choosing to view Death as a man since that was how it chose to appear before her. She did not know whose form he used but seated before her in the ornate chair was Death, straight black hair falling past his shoulders and blind emerald eyes fixed on hers. Standing he bowed to her, taking her hand and kissing it with icy lips.

"Lady Thurichel," he said in turn, always calling her by her ataresse. "It is good to see you again."

"As you," she replied with a fey smile, sitting on the edge of her bed as he returned to the chair.

"You have grown much," he said, his sightless eyes seeming to look at her. Minorniel did not doubt that he could see her somehow despite his blindness.

"And you remain unchanged," she affirmed and a small smile crossed his features.

"If you tire of this face I can change," he told her.

"Nay Gurthchir, I doubt I shall ever tire of the face you present to me," she answered quickly, "You know well I still wish to know whose form you have taken."

"And I shall never tell you," he smiled and Minorniel expected nothing less, "But tell me, what has passed for you in the last ten years."

Minorniel sat there conversing about the last decade with a far away smile. In her recount she laughed and cried and went into lengthy details of stories that lost souls had told her. Gurthchir spoke up rarely, asking only a few questions here and there, often his comments made her laugh, a beautiful bell-like sound that made Death itself smile.

"Now you tell me Gurthchir," she said, finally finishing her tale, "What news of the outside world, any battles? A touching story of two lovers? A heroic lord?"

Gurthchir smiled at her and opened his mouth before quickly closing it again and frowned. Sighing he stood from the chair. Minorniel looked at him in concern with a tilt of her head.

"I am sorry Lady Thurichel," he said, "Two elves have insisted on dieing today and I must guide them, were they men I could wait. This is most unusual, I apologize Lady." He said softly with a frown and Minorniel sighed.

"I am saddened Gurthchir, I shall not see you for another decade and you are certainly the most interesting company in the Halls, Namo will not let me venture outside until I am at least seventy. I grow so bored in your absence. Will you not take me with you to collect these souls?"

"I fear it would greatly displease your caretaker Lady."

"But you are Death itself Gurthchir! Namo can do nothing to you," she complained with sad eyes, standing up and embracing him tightly, burying her head into his chest. Gurthchir looked down at her in surprise before lightly returning her hug.

"I feel that you are using me Lady."

"I?" she asked looking up at him with a mischievous smile, "Never."

"Very well Lady, I shall take you with me, but only because our time was cut short, do not think this shall be a reoccurring event." She nodded and he went on, "You must always be in contact with me or the others shall be able to see you. Do you understand Thurichel?"

"Perfectly Gurthchir."

"Good," he said taking her arm and lacing it through his. Suddenly they seemed to be moving without moving and a glorious city rose up before them. Minorniel openly gaped at its beauty.

"What is this place?"

"This Lady Thurichel, is Gondolin, the hidden city of the elves."

"It's magnificent."

"It is simply another kingdom, it will one day fall, and another just as glorious shall arise."

"You are far too cynical Gurthchir."

"Truly? And how would you have Death act?"

"I would have him dress all in yellow with a crown of flowers in his hair and a smile on his face," Minorniel told him and he chuckled softly.

"I think not Lady, even for you." His face suddenly grew grim as they approached the base of one of an enormous black precipice that extended from the northern side of Gondolin. Minorniel closed her eyes at the broken and mangled body that lay at their feet.

"What happened to it?" she asked her eyes still firmly closed and she felt Gurthchir give her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"I know not, you will have to ask him yourself. Eol, the Dark Elf, I believe?"

"That is how I am known." At the presence of the new voice Minorniel opened her eyes and stared at the pale form of an Elf-man, sitting beside the body, a shimmering chain attaching him to it. "And who are you and how is it you see me."

"I am Death, Master Eol, come to take you to the Halls of Waiting."

"And who is the young Elf-Maid," he asked, dark eyes piercing her. Minorniel felt unnerved by his gaze and quickly looked away.

"None of your concern," Gurthchir answered simply. Drawing the sword from the sheath that he wore at his side Gurthchir sliced easily through the chain binding Eol to his body. The Dark Elf stood and nodded his thanks. "You will follow me."

Minorniel doubted that the Elf could have disobeyed had he wanted to. The spirit was whisked away with them as they seemed to materialize inside of a great room, the body of a beautiful Elleth lay with a poisoned javelin imbedded in her heart. At the sight of her spirit chained to the body Eol closed his eyes in momentary despair. When he opened them again they were hard and emotionless. Minorniel decided that he was justly named, Dark Elf indeed, she had never seen an elf so cold before.

"Lady Aredhel," Gurthchir spoke and the Elleth looked up at him and nodded in greeting. She seemed to be ignoring Eol, her eyes also hard. "Would you like to cut her chain Thurichel?"

Glancing up at Gurthchir in surprise Minorniel nodded accepting the sword from him. Stepping forward while keeping one hand in his she raised the sword and brought it down smoothly, slicing through the chain. She hadn't expected it to cut through so easily and stumbled forward a bit on impact, her hand slipping from Gurthchir's. Quite abruptly he as well as the two spirits vanished.

"Ai!" Cried a voice and Minorniel whipped around at the exclamation to see a tall Elf-man standing in the doorway to the chamber staring at her. He was undeniably beautiful, Minorniel thought, staring at him with wide eyes. His hair was gold, not simply blond but a rich warm color that shone in the light. He had the look of a noble warrior about him and the frown on his face did not belay his handsome features. "What are you doing!"

Minorniel opened her mouth to speak when she felt Gurthchir's hand grab her arm and the two spirits came abruptly back into focus. The golden haired elf who had seen her glanced sharply around the room in shock. Aredhel snorted behind her and Minorniel glanced at her questioningly.

"That was Glorfindel, an elf-lord of the house of the Golden Flower." she explained, "I doubt anyone has ever evaded him quite so successfully."

Glorfindel, Minorniel thought, staring at the golden-haired Elf-Lord. He had the muscular frame of a warrior, but lean and toned build of an athlete, tall, broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips. Minorniel had never seen an Elf so beautiful. She guessed him to be of Vanyar decent, the fairest of all the elves, but she could not fathom what he would be doing in Gondolin if that were so. She'd believed all of the Vanyar to be in Valinor. Perhaps he was half Vanyar only.

"Come, we go to Mandos." With that, familiar surroundings quickly seemed to materialize around them as they moved without moving. He spoke with the two souls for a moment and Minorniel waited for him patiently. When he had finished he took her hand in his and she knew he was not visible to to the others of the house and neither was she.

"What did you think of Gondolin," he asked when they were alone and she lay in her bed, wearily.

"It was the first place I've seen besides the palace of Nienna and these Halls. I cannot describe how freeing it was, thank you for taking me with you." Minorniel squeezed his hand gratefully and he smiled at her. She blinked her eyes blearily. "Pray tell, do you know much of that Elf-Lord Glorfindel?"

"Nay," said he with a sudden scowl, as she closed her eyes sleepily, "Why do you ask?"

"Because," she murmured on the brink of sleep, "He was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Gurthchir sat there in stunned silence as she lay asleep, her moonbeam hair splayed around her. Her words had awoken a pain, a turmoil inside of him that he did not understand. He quickly stood and turned before pausing and looking back at the beautiful Elleth that lay asleep a peaceful smile on her face. Bending down he kissed her forehead gently, a tear slipping down his cheek onto hers. He felt as though he had lost her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> HA! there's a longer chapter


	4. FIRST AGE 355

YEARS OF THE SUN  
>FIRST AGE 355<p>

Minorniel laughed at Gurthchir as they sat next to each other on her bed, a storybook opened before them. She leaned contentedly against his shoulder as he read aloud to her. She ran a slender finger over the ancient script in a language she did not understand looking with reverence at the beautiful illustrations.

"And they lived happily ever after," he finished and Minorniel smiled. She stared at the depiction on the final page of two humans entwined in each others arms in a passionate kiss and a strange longing awoke in her breast. It reminded her of the longing she felt when she thought of the elf-lord Glorfindel.

"I wonder what it would be like to be in love," Minorniel wondered aloud, playing with the hem of Gurthchir's sleeve. He looked down at the sad Elleth's eyes not sure how to confront the situation.

"I have often wondered that myself," Gurthchir confided in her and she pulled back from his shoulder to tilt her head at him curiously. He immediately missed the warmth of her presence.

"You have never been in love Gurthchir?"

"Nay Thurichel, never."

"I suppose it wouldn't make sense for Death to be able to love," she mused, falling back into the bed, her hair flying about her. He stared at her for a moment, much changed from ten years ago. She had grown into a tall thin Elleth with small breasts and angular curves. She was thin of frame and had a chiseled appearance as if made from stone yet still managed to seem soft and warm. He ran her words over in his head again and for some reason they bothered him and he frowned, falling down beside her and propping his head up on one hand and looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Well...," she began with a shrug, staring at the ceiling. "I suppose if Death could love then it would imply that Death could have favoritism. And Death is supposed to objective, right? That's why you're blind?"

"These eyes are blind, blind to the physical world, but I can still see, I see you, the soul you." He told her and Minorniel shivered at his words. Sighing she turned over and buried her head in the crook of his neck.

"I think I might be in love," she said and Gurthchir froze completely a lump in his throat.

"I do not understand."

"Do you remember when we went to Gondolin?"

"Of course."

"The Elf-Lord Glorfindel, I think I fell in love with him. Like in that book, love at first sight." A dreamy look crossed her face as she laid in his arms, twirling a lock of his hair around her finger.

"How do you know," Gurthchir asked, pain stabbing at his insides.

"Whenever I think about him, I feel all happy and giddy inside, like someone released butterflies in my stomach," she smiled dreamily her eyes unfocused and contemplative. "His eyes felt like two fiery coals burning my soul."

A silence followed and she snuggled closer to Gurthchir's chest but he abruptly pulled away, sitting up with his back facing her. He did not understand the pain he felt. Minorniel sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck loosely, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"What is wrong Gurthchir?"

"I know not," he answered truthfully.

"You don't like it when I talk about Glorfindel."

"Nay."

"Then I shall speak naught of him in your presence." A small smile spread across Gurthchir's face and his hand reached up and squeezed one of hers gently.

"You know," she began, trailing a hand through his long black hair, "When I was little I had the biggest crush on you."

Gurthchir turned his head to look at her sharply but the young Elleth was peering off into the distance her eyes far away. He found that the small smile that had been on his face had turned into a wide grin and he quickly wiped it off of his face before she could notice.

It was true, thought Minorniel, that at one time she'd believed Gurthchir to be the most beautiful being in all of Arda. She had thought such things until she had laid eyes on Glorfindel at Gondolin. It was not that Glorfindel was more beautiful than Gurthchir but his beauty was a different kind from Death's. Glorfindel's presence shone with the warmth of the sun, life, jubilation, and exotic brilliance seemed to radiate from him. He was like the dawn, the beginning of the day, an awe inspiring sight for one who had lived surrounded by the calm night of death all her life. But Glorfindel's beauty did not change the fact that the fairness of Gurthchir exceeded all others. His beauty was in contemplation, calm, and the serenity of night. Leaning down she tilted her head kissing his cheek. Yes, he was most beautiful.


	5. FIRST AGE 365

YEARS OF THE SUN

FIRST AGE 365

The spirit of Feanor was glaring at her again. Minorniel shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She could practically feel his fiery eyes boring into her skull as she contemplated what to do. Suddenly a bright smile crossed her face and she looked up and grinned at his deep scowl. He rose an elegant eyebrow at her and she reached out and moved the chess piece across the board.

"Check mate!" Minorniel proclaimed and Feanor's smug look abruptly fell from his face and his scowl deepened as he observed the board.

"I was going easy on you," he told her simply, standing up with a great "hrumph" and leaving to find something new to occupy himself with. Minorniel rolled her eyes at his shimmery back and gathered the pieces together.

"You've improved much to be able to beat Feanor Lady Thurichel" came a familiar voice. Suddenly the chess pieces were scattered on the floor as Minorniel ran to Gurthchir who stood in the corner with a smile on his face. She leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and he stumbled from the impact, gripping her tightly in a returned embrace.

"I've missed you so much, I have seen naught of you in ten years Gurthchir!" Normally she'd at least catch sight of him and exchange greetings on occasion but this decade he'd been completely absent.

"I am sorry Lady," he said with a grunt. "Ah, you are far too heavy now for me to hold you, what has Namo been feeding you?"

"That's mean Gurthchir," she said slapping his arm playfully as he set her down. It was true she had continued to grow, her head was now level with his chin, but she knew she was featherlight as always and indeed could gain many pounds without worry of burdening him with her weight..

"Pray tell, how tall are you now?"

"Five feet and ten inches exactly."

"And growing still? Soon you shall stand taller than I."

"Oh hush," she swatted him again. " My growth has slowed greatly in the past three years, Lady Vaire thinks I might grow another inch or two before I'm done."

"And how old are you Thurichel?" He asked, taking her arm and steering her towards her room.

"Seventy!"

"So Namo will be releasing you from his Halls soon then?" He asked as they walked in the door.

"I cannot wait," she grinned, "I have met no elves other than spirits, it will be agreeable to make friends with the living."

"You do not enjoy my company Lady?" Minorniel started at his words and turned to face his sightless eyes, raising a hand to place it on his cheek and looking at him tenderly.

"You are my best friend Gurthchir." She said seriously. "I love you."

"I thought you loved Lord Glorfindel," he said, his expression unreadable.

"I love him, but I do not know him. With you I am content. When you are here you make me happy. And when you are gone I miss you and am sad. In the time you are absent I wait for your return."

"I wish I could return your affections Thurichel." He said, a pang in his heart as if someone had run him through with his own sword.

"I wish that as well Gurthchir. But do not trouble yourself for my sake, tell me some tale."


	6. FIRST AGE 374

YEARS OF THE SUN  
>FIRST AGE 374<p>

Minorniel went to Valimar for the first time at the tender age of seventy-nine, finally allowed to leave by Namo as long as a Maia accompanied her on the journey between. And what a Maia he was, like an angel from the stories of Men that she had been told. Eonwe was the Herald of Manwe, treated like a son by him and his wife Varda. He was said to be the greatest in arms of all those in the Blessed Realm. And herself, she was, a young elfling appearing seventeen in the years of men, her arm looped through his as he escorted her through the halls of Valimar.

Valimar was the central city in Valinor where the Vanyar resided. It was beautiful in a way she had never seen, the Halls of Waiting being grand but dreary and Gondolin a mere shadow of Valimar's glory. As Minorniel walked through the halls in her long black robes she gaped openly at the glory of the city. The very stones it was built from seemed to shine and elvish laughter constantly echoed through the halls. Here the Vanyar resided, the fairest and most beloved of the elves and the fewest in number.

"What do you think of the city so far Minorniel," the Herald asked, looking down at her with a smile, for though she was very tall even for an Elleth he was a Maia and stood at least two heads higher than she.

"It is the most beautiful place I have ever seen Eonwe," she exclaimed honestly, bright eyes glistening.

"I am glad to hear you think well of the city Lady," a new voice called, merry was it, and the golden locks of hair that fell to his waist in a tight braid reminded her of the beautiful Elf-Lord she had seen in Gondolin. He was dressed in rich robes of deep crimson and a bright circlet imbedded with rubies adorned his head.

"My Lord," Eonwe bowed politely though he was in fact of a rank above this Elf. The Elf smiled back and bowed in return, his eyes gazing at the Lady upon the Herald's arm. "May I present to you Lady Minorniel of the Western Halls, Ward of Mandos. And to you Lady Minorniel I introduce High King Ingwe Ingweron."

"It is an honor My Lady," the High King said bowing again with great flourish. Minorniel curtsied deeply in awe of the one standing before her, one of the first three elves to come to Valinor and one who had awoken beneath the stars before the first age. He took her hand and kissed it and Minorniel smiled and blushed at the flattery for she knew she was no great Elleth of any grand station and he was being particularly kind in the way he treated her.

"A star shines on the hour of our meeting," she said formally, still blushing and glowing with obvious warmth. The High King smiled widely at the young Elleth.

"And I hope it shall continue to shine for many meetings to come my dear. Eonwe, if I might be so bold as to offer myself as the Lady's escort?"

"Of course Lord, but treat her with care for she is under the protection of the Vala Mandos and is well loved by Vaire and Nienna and I find that myself grows fond of her quickly also."

"I shall guard her as if she were my own child." He promised and offered his arm to Minorniel who eagerly slipped away from Eonwe and joined the great Lord. As they began to walk down the hallway she suddenly paused. "Lady?"

"A moment if you will my Lord," she said and quickly ran back to Eonwe who had begun walking in the other direction.

"Eonwe," she called.

"Lady Minorniel," he acknowledged with a smile. Minorniel grinned and embraced him boldly, planting a soft kiss on the Maia's cheek.

"Thank you for your time."

"Twas a pleasure Lady," Eonwe promised with a bright smile, "When you tire I will be waiting to escort you back to the Halls. Now be off with you."

Minorniel grinned and darted back to the Elf Lord who had watched all of this with a tilt of his head and small smile. She curtsied before him again and his smile widened as he once more offered her his arm and they resumed walking through the halls. Minorniel was in perpetual awe of the great Elf Lord who walked beside her, pointing out different things and recalling old Tales as they walked. She found that she was in a near constant state of laughter from his witty humor and gentle teasing.

The High King on the other hand had already grown fond of the young Elleth at his side whose silvery frame and long straight locks that ranged in color from strands of pure white to the deepest black reminded him of the Moon itself; the last blossom of Telperion. In her the tree's silvery light and gentle serenity seemed to have personified itself.

"Tell me Lady," he spoke at length "How came you to the Halls of Mandos?"

There upon followed a long hesitant silence, the young Elleth biting her lip and a frown crossing her features. "I don't rightly know my Lord."

"Please explain." He invited kindly.

"...I was brought there by Death, for when I looked into his eyes I did not die. He had come for me, a child abandoned in a basket, unwanted and alone, I should not have lived yet I did nevertheless. I know not of my heritage, Namo has raised me in his house and is to me like my father and the Lady Vaire like my mother."

"To be a ward of a Vala is a unique occurrence," he said musing over her words. "So you have met Death himself?"

"Yes," she said with a misty smile. "He is my best friend."

Ingwe observed her silently before speaking. "Tell me of him."

"My Lord?"

"Of Death, tell me what is he like?"

"...Death is," Minorniel thought for a moment. "He is as beautiful noble and strong as all the Elven Lords of old. Dark haired and always robed in black, with brilliant unseeing emerald eyes..., for Death like love is truly blind. He knows so much of the world and beyond, secrets, mysteries he will never divulge. As sombre as he is one moment, the next he is the very definition of humor and his wit is insurmountable. He is as wise as the Valar and ageless as Ea. He is patient and caring and his voice is deep as the sea and gentle as a spring breeze that caries still the chill of winter. He knows myself and each person in the Halls as if he were a part of them and seems to know my very thoughts without the need for speaking."

"You sound quite taken with him," Ingwe observed with a smile and Minorniel blushed a deep shade of crimson that rivaled the color of his robes.

"In truth Lord, would that Death could love I would love him and only him for the rest of eternity." A long silence stretched after her confession but it was a comfortable one and Minorniel felt content in the Elf King's presence.

"Pray, let us find something to eat, I am famished, would that appeal to you Lady Minorniel?"

"Greatly," she said with a smile.


	7. FIRST AGE 395

YEARS OF THE SUN  
>FIRST AGE 395<p>

Gurthchir handed to Minorniel a dark package and she looked up at him questioningly. And he opened his mouth to explain, "Happy Birthday."

"You have never given me a present before," Minorniel said with a smile and raised eyebrow. Gurthchir shrugged, sitting on the bed and patting the space next to him. She happily complied with his request.

"It is not everyday one turns one hundred Thurichel." He explained. "You are old."

Minorniel swatted him with a grin. In truth she was now just of age, no longer a child. She could finally be looked upon as a woman rather than a girl. And she looked like a woman. She had stopped growing at the impressive, even for an Elleth, height of five feet eleven inches, and her breasts and hips had filled out. She was still alarmingly thin and had no great assets like some of the elf maid's she'd seen. But she felt that she was in fact beautiful, she had beauty in her grace and serenity rather than in form.

"So what did you get me?" She asked, looking at the package.

"You will have to open it and see." He said with a smile. Minorniel quickly set to the task of ripping the package apart and was confronted with a small wooden chest. The chest itself was exquisitely beautiful. It was made of dark rich wood with intricate carvings of waves crashing into each other. The detail in the work was a true masterpiece and she was almost afraid to touch it. The delicacy of the waves were such that she nearly forgot they were wooden and instead feared that they would crash and break against some unseen shore. The smell of the sea seemed to fill her nostrils and the warm sea-foam splash off to caress her skin. Letting out a breathy sigh Minorniel brought herself to gently run her fingers across the chest, it's strength and solidity shocking her senses.

"Open it," Gurthchir urged with a smile at her reaction. When she did Minorniel found a dagger set in a rich purple velvet cushion. She lifted it, afraid that touching it would cause it to disintegrate or break apart. The blade was crafted of sharpened mithril, making the blade almost white. It curved the length of her forearm that tapered outwards and then back in to form a sharp point. The hilt and crosspiece seemed to be made of polished bronze, inlaid with silver and gold swirls.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, touching the cool blade gently.

"Careful, it is very sharp," he warned her then fished around in some inner pocket of his robes, pulling out a belt and sheath of ornamentation that matched the hilt of the dagger. "This goes with it, I believe it will fit you, stand up, put it on."

Minorniel eagerly obliged him. She felt so strong and sure with it at her side. "I feel like a warrior."

Gurthchir smiled at her, "You look like one."

"You jest," she said with an appreciative laugh, drawing the dagger at her waist and examining it once more.

"Nay Thurichel, I speak truth." He assured her before becoming serious. "Be warned, that is no ordinary weapon."

"What do you mean Gurthchir?"

"That dagger is like my sword, it will separate the soul from the body, in Elves it will sever the chain that links the soul to the body. It is a very dangerous thing, one cannot heal from a deep wound from that dagger."

"What do you mean by deep wound?"

"You can slice and scratch people with that like any ordinary dagger, but should you imbed it to the hilt in the body the soul will be cut. However I would ask that if you should see fit to kill an elf that you would save me the trouble and cut the chain."

"I could never kill anybody and especially not an elf," she told him.

"Yes well, there is more. Also like my sword that dagger will allow you to see the dead outside of Mandos hall, the ones that do not reveal themselves to you least ways."

"Will I be invisible to them?"

"Nay, that is my own power not one of any weapon. But you will seem slightly transparent and shimmery like an apparition."

"Did I appear that way when I held your sword?"

"Yes." He said and there was silence for a moment. Minorniel sheathed the dagger and walked over to him and embraced him tightly.

"Thank you for the present Gurthchir." She said sincerely


	8. FIRST AGE 401

YEARS OF THE SUN  
>FIRST AGE 401<p>

Minorniel drank gratefully from the goblet offered to her by Eonwe. Finishing the icy water in moments she sighed, her heart pounding and a trickle of sweat fell from her face. With a small huff she put the glass back down and looked up at Eonwe with a nod.

"Again," she said unsheathing a practice dagger. She was on her back in moments after making her first attack and groaned. "I'll never get this right."

"It takes a lot of practice Minorniel," he said sympathetically, helping her up. "Perhaps we should break for lunch."

"Alright," she agreed with a tired sigh, they'd been working on her technique since breakfast and she was exhausted. After carrying the dagger around for six years Eonwe had finally suggested she actually learn how to wield it.

"So have you thought of a name?"

"What?"

"A name." At Minorniel's blank look he laughed and began to explain. "For the dagger, it is a grand weapon and deserves a name."

"People usually name their weapons?"

"Only ones that are important to them. It's usually inscribed on the weapon somewhere along with a line or two about it."

"I'll have to think of a good name for it."

"Yes."


	9. FIRST AGE 455

YEARS OF THE SUN

FIRST AGE 455

Cold wind ripped at her black robes as Minorniel stood on an ash covered field. It had been called Ard-Galen, it had been a large plain outside of Angband. It had been beautiful and lush and green. It _had_ been. Now there was a gaping black scorch in the earth where nothing grew. Fire still crackled in some places, continuing to destroy. The snow that had littered the ground in a thick blanket was wiped away.

Minorniel walked across the plain, drawn by the the shimmering light of spirits sitting beside burning carcasses. Tears stained her cheeks and they fell freely at random moments as she looked at the death and destruction. Gurthchir had been seeing to the cutting of chains in the real battle and now after it, he hadn't wanted her to see the battlefield, littered with carcasses of the Eldar and Edain. Morgoth had broken the four hundred year long Siege of Angmar and had managed it with only minimal casualties. She had been on the field of Ard-Galen which the spirits around her had begun to call Anfauglith, gasping dust, for a week now. Morgoth had flooded the field with fire and many had died running from it.

Her fingers ached from gripping the dagger which she had named _Gift of Death_. Upon its blade Aule had inscribed for her, 'I am the bearer of everlasting night, I am the relief and the condemnation, when you feel me pierce your heart you will know I am Annaengurth'.

The spirit of a young Elleth caught Minorniel's eye and she frowned, moving to the two bodies near her. One, she realized, was still alive. As she drew closer the spirit seemed to shrink from her but the elf-man was in too much pain to really notice until she stood over him. He was going to die, she knew and knelt by his side, lifting Annaengurth.

"Stay! Stay!" the Elleth cried out with a sob. "Do not kill him!"

At her pause to look at the female whom the elf could not hear he moaned in pain.

"He is going to die," Minorniel told her gently. "Would you I continue his suffering?"

"Nay," she sobbed in defeat and Minorniel plunged the dagger into the elf's heart and his spirit, the chain severed, sat up and looked at her.

"Am I dead?"

"Yes," Minorniel answered before moving to the Elleth to cut the chain that bound her. As soon as Annaengurth sliced through the chain it disappeared. The Elleth was pulled to her feet by the elf and they were quickly locked in a tight embrace, kissing passionately.

"I told you it was too dangerous," the Elf told his lover with sad eyes.

"Were you to be killed I would have faded anyways, it was better to die fighting at your side." She told him and they were soon locked in another lust filled kiss. Minorniel coughed awkwardly and the two pulled away to look at her.

"Are you death?" Asked the elf, dark eyes piercing hers. Minorniel stood gracefully and shook her head.

"Nay, merely his servant," she said and then pointed to a light very far away that she knew was Mandos' Hall calling to them. "You will go there if you wish for peace."

"Thank you," the elf said, touching his chest where she had stabbed him.

"Of course, now depart for the Undying Lands."

"Tell me," the Elleth said, "Are you the Lady Nienna?"

"I have tears enough tonight but I am not, I am of the race of the Eldar like yourself. But concern naught for me and be on your way, know only that Death protects me." With those words Minorniel turned and continued to walk. After a week it seemed she had finally freed the last of the spirits and knew that Gurthchir who was much faster than her was probably close to finishing as well. Reaching into an inner pocket of her dark robe she pulled out a piece of lembas bread and took a quick bite before returning it.

The breaking of this siege had interrupted another visit from Gurthchir and he had, at her insistence taken her along. Her transparency and dark attire made her seem like a fey spirit and any who saw her either believed her a mirage or a ghost and did not speak with her. Slouching tiredly onto the ground Minorniel looked at the black castle of Angband and felt loathing for this Morgoth. Melkor. She knew that was his name among the Valar and he had come to earth as one of them. He was a disgusting excuse of a creature.

It was then that the clatter of horse hooves could be heard and Minorniel stood abruptly, looking around. Her keen gray eyes alighted upon a single figure riding towards her. She glimpsed his face as he road past though he did not see her. The dark hair that streamed out from beneath his helmet and his strong jaw and pointed nose were familiar to her but she could not place him and frowned. Where had she seen him before? Minorniel jumped as a familiar icy hand touched her and she turned to look at Gurthchir who was staring after the rider curiously.

"Who is he?" She asked him quietly.

"Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor. I wonder why he is here," Gurthchir mused and Minorniel realized why she thought him familiar, this was Feanor's half brother as well as the full brother of Finarfin, whom she had met in Tirion in Valinor, the lord of the Noldor there. She watched him with Gurthchir as he rode up to the gates of Angband.

"Morgoth!" Fingolfin cried out in fury, raising his sword. "You will answer for the blood of the Eldar you have spilt! I, Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor, son of Finwe challenge you to single combat! May the best elf win!"

Minorniel had to smile at the haughty words Fingolfin had dared utter to the Dark Lord. Turning to Gurthchir she asked, "Do you think he will answer the challenge?"

"Melkor is not one to show cowardice, no doubt the Lord's words enraged him," Gurthchir answered with a nod. He was proven correct not but a few moments later when the gates opened and a dark figure emerged.

Minorniel gripped Gurthchir's hand as fear filled her at the sight of Melkor, the fallen Vala. Gurthchir squeezed her hand in reassurance, turning blind eyes on her with a warm smile. But Minorniel did not see it, her eyes fixed on Fingolfin who rode swiftly towards the figure, sword raised and a scream of anger on his lips. How he could summon the bravery to do such a thing Minorniel knew not. The form of Melkor towered above him two times and half again the height of Fingolfin, on his head sat a thorny black crown with three glowing jewels in it, he wore armor of all black and carried a huge black shield with no emblem, at his side he held an enormous hammer. Fingolfin on the other hand shone like an exploding star, his mail shirt overlaid in silver and blue shield glittering with crystals, in his hand he wielded Rumil which glittered like ice.

The brave elf Lord was thrown from his horse with a ringing blow from Melkor's great hammer Grond and Minorniel winced, believing the battle to have ended before it began. To her shock and Melkor's she was sure, Fingolfin stood, glowing all the brighter as his anger increased and charged again. This charge was more cautious, thought out, than the other one and as Melkor swung at him Fingolfin leaped up and out of the way, bringing his sword to carve a deep groove down Melkor's forearm. Minorniel stood in shock as well as did Gurthchir. Was it possible this elf would be able to stand against Melkor? Greatest of the Valar?

They fought on and two more times Fingolfin was thrown to the ground and two more times he stood. The hammer had caught him a glancing blow in the left shoulder and the bones there shattered making him drop the shield but still Fingolfin fought on. Five more times did he wound the fallen Vala who howled with anger and pain, fighting even more fiercely after each wound. Just as Minorniel began believing that he might slay Melkor did the Dark Lord bear down upon him with such force as to knock the Elf King on his back. The dark creature lifted his foot to stomp Fingolfin into the ground but the elf lashed out and lacerated Melkor's heal, wounding him for the seventh time, but though the foot came down with much less force, it was enough to snap his neck with a ringing crack. Minorniel let out a cry of horror and made to run towards the Elf but was stopped by Gurthchir who held her to him tightly.

"There is nothing you can do." he told her. "The High King has been slain."

"But if I can stab him just once!" She exclaimed struggling.

"Do you think such things work against such a mighty creature, do you think you have the skill? Nay Thurichel you would die and I obliged to take you to the Halls for a second time."

"Why don't you kill him?" she screamed breaking away from his arms and Gurthchir shook his head sadly, reaching up to wipe a tear from her face.

"It is not his time."

"You could make it so! You are Death!"

"Do not tempt me in such ways Thurichel."

"Why not! You could save us, you could have saved Fingolfin! You could have finished this battle before it began and thousands would still be alive! You are the most powerful being in all of Arda! You—"

"Silence Thurichel," he told her sharply, fixing her with a cold glare and Minorniel froze, having never seen such a fierce gaze. "Do not pretend to understand such things that are beyond your comprehension. Would I what you beg of me there would be no more Arda, the very fabric of creation would fall apart. You did not hear the first song, the song from which I was birthed and you do not know how empty the song would be without pain such as this."

Minorniel glared at him through tear-filled eyes but her gaze was drawn by the powerful flap of wings and screech of an eagle. Thorondor, king of eagles, swooped down from the heavens and clawed at Melkor's face. The Dark Lord stepped back, reeling from the unexpected attack and lifting his hammer. But in his confusion the eagle had swooped down and grasped the broken body of Fingolfin in his great talons and flown away, bearing him towards Gondolin, the realm of Fingolfin's son, but his spirit, still chained went with them.

Gurthchir cursed quietly and grasped Minorniel's hand who struggled against him as their world became watercolors and reshaped itself into Gondolin. Finally succeeding in freeing her hand from his Minorniel stormed off down a deserted hallway. Resisting the urge to go after her Gurthchir turned to go find Fingolfin's body so that he might free his spirit. It was not like she was in any real danger, next to Valinor, Gondolin was probably the safest place in Arda right now.

Minorniel ran from him in a fresh burst of tears wanting only to be away from his icy touch, sightless eyes, and unfailing logic. Finally crumpling to the ground in a corner Minorniel buried her face in her hands, trying to ease the tears. Why was Gurthchir so cold? Why did he have to be right about everything? Why did he drive her absolutely mad one moment and then throw the madness from her the next? She was so angry with him that she didn't even hear the elf approach.

"Why do you cry young Elleth?" Came a voice that she'd cemented into her memory over the years. Looking up with a start she found herself looking into the bright eyes of the Golden-haired Elf Lord. When he saw her face an expression of surprise appeared on his fair features and she was both pleased and terrified that he remembered her. "It's you..."

At his accusing tone she fled from him, down some unknown hall, looking desperately for Gurthchir though her logical mind told her she would not be able to see him in this place. Though she ran as fast as she could the Lord of the Golden Flower was faster and quickly caught her, a strong arm wrapping around her waist and turning her to face him. She struggled in his iron grip pressing against his chest with all of her might. Hair tumbled loose from the knot that held it back as he caught her hands, holding them still against his chest.

"Lady please, I do not wish to harm you."

"Let me go," she cried out trying her best to pull away but to no avail. Tears sprung to her eyes again as she wished for Gurthchir. "Pray let me go my Lord Glorfindel, I beg you."

"How do you know me," he asked startled, his hands loosening in shock but not enough. She did not answer but continued to cry silent tears. With a sigh he released her and stepped back, holding up his hands in an offering of peace. Minorniel almost ran, turning from him abruptly but suddenly could not bring herself to do it. She stood there shaking, arms wrapped around herself in fear like a lost child, which was not far from the truth. She felt him walk up behind her, a gentle hand touching her shoulder and turning her towards him, the other lifting to wipe away her tears. How many times had she thought about him touching her? How many nights had she lain in bed wondering how his skin would feel against hers? His hands were warm, but rough, not soft like Gurthchir's, warrior hands, hands of labor with the long fingers of a noble-man that comforted and soothed. Minorniel closed her eyes and allowed herself to bask in that moment.

"Would that I knew your name Lady, for I wish to comfort you, your tears fill me with sadness."

"Minorniel."

"What?"

"My name," she said, opening her gray eyes to stare into his warm copper ones, "I am called Minorniel."

"Minorniel," he said, a smile brightening his entire face. "Now tell me why you cry so I might cure your woes."

"It is for High King Fingolfin, he was slain by Melk— Morgoth."

"I have heard this news just previously, it is reason to weep, but Lord Fingolfin was valiant in life, I am sure the great Mandos shall treat him well. Fear not for him and keep hope."

"Thank you my Lord," she said, unable to look at him. "I pray you are correct."

"Of course I am," he said with a smile, tilting her chin up and a blush colored her face. "And my name is not 'Lord', it is Glorfindel, so call me by it."

"Yes my— Glorfindel." Her blush deepened at her words but he only laughed, an enchanting wonderful sound.

"I shall by 'your Glorfindel' if that is what you wish, but pray tell, who are you and how did you disappear all those years ago? An elf-witch perhaps? Or a Maia?"

"Nay Lor— Glorfindel, I am of Elven kind." She paused and looked at her feet again.

"Go on," he encouraged with a smile. But Minorniel shook her head and took a step back from him, feeling the coldness of Gurthchir behind her, her hand searched for his and found it. Glorfindel jumped in surprise, looking around in distress as she disappeared from view.

"I see you are making friends," Gurthchir observed with a frown, but Minorniel threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

"I missed you."

"Then do not run away dear Thurichel," he said with a smile, then his face turned serious and he frowned, "You hurt me."

"I am deeply sorry," she said and then caught sight of the shimmering figure beside her and blushed a deep crimson, returning her grip to his hand only and curtsying deeply. "My Lord."

"Lady," the High-King Fingolfin acknowledged with a small bow.

"Let us depart now," Gurthchir said as the world around them began to melt. Minorniel turned to catch one last glimpse of Glorfindel before his presence melted away.


	10. FIRST AGE 462

YEARS OF THE SUN  
>FIRST AGE 462<p>

For leading the Noldor from Aman across the Helcaraxe Fingolfin was not immediately reembodied. Though his valor for dueling Melkor shortened his time there by many centuries. Instead just seven years after being brought to the Halls of Waiting, Fingolfin's waiting was over. To most everyone's collective shock Feanor was there to see him off. He stood in the back corner of the room as other spirits bade the newly embodied Fingolfin a hearty farewell, jokingly making him promise to come and visit.

Minorniel came forward and embraced him quickly. Over seven years of constantly badgering him and listening to his stories she'd grown very fond of the High King. Her eyes watered but she didn't cry, merely smiling brightly at him.

"I wonder if I might be presuming upon my brother if I invite you to Tirion to spend time with us," he began with a smile.

"Whether it be presumptuous or not I would like that." Minorniel told him with a smile.

"Then I formally invite you to come visit us whenever it suits you."

"I will make good use of your invitation."


	11. FIRST AGE: 466

YEARS OF THE SUN

FIRST AGE: 466

Minorniel sat at the side of Mandos and stared at the beautiful elf-maiden before her. The Elleth's human companion was not particularly handsome or striking but Minorniel could immediately see the resemblance between he and the Kings of Old and knew that he was of royal lineage. He captured little of her attention though, for the fairest of all Elves ever to live was singing a lament to Mandos of their trials. Her voice was one to rival her Maia mother Melian.

As Luthien Tinuvial sang of the impossible task her father Thingol had appointed to Beren so that they might marry, Minorniel found herself weeping. Surely the world now would seem so dark to her for as she gazed upon Luthien the Fair she knew that everything else would be hollow of beauty after laying eyes upon one such as she. All the songs of the Eldar in Valimar would no longer fill her with such wonder for no voice could possibly be as sweet as hers.

Minorniel fell in love as Luthien sang her song, the emotions in the Lady's voice ranging from joy to insurmountable pain to passionate love to deathly heartbreak, so beautiful as to surely rival the first song of Iluvatar. Through her tear filled eyes Minorniel found herself once again observing Beren, he who had captured this great Elf-maid's heart. She did not see what could have drawn her to him but as Luthien sang of their trials she doubted not that their love was the most true and pure in all of Arda.

As the song came to an end Minorniel found herself turning to Namo to plead with him for Beren's life as surely as if she had been the one to love him. The words stopped in her throat as she looked upon the Keeper of the Dead. A single glistening tear dropped from his right eye to wind slowly down his cheek and fall upon the the middle finder of the hand Minorniel had laid upon her Lord's arm. Minorniel pulled her hand away, the tear seeming to burn her. A red welt sprouted like a ring around her middle finger and she touched it gently.

"I have not the authority to restore your love to life," he said and his voice was full of remorse, an emotion Minorniel had never seen in him before. She opened her mouth to speak but he silenced her with a glance. "Even if I wanted to."

To watch Luthien cry was the most unbearable thing Minorniel had ever had to endure in her short one hundred seventy-one years. Once again she found herself weeping for the beautiful Elleth. Namo observed both her and the Tinuvial.

"For his life I would give my immortality!" Luthien sobbed and Namo stood from his throne, walking closer to the Elleth and observing her silently. She looked up at him from her place on the floor where she had fallen, the spirit of Beren holding her in his arms.

"I will do what I can, I promise no more."

"Thank you my Lord," she murmured, completely drained from the wealth of emotions threatening to consume her.

Death stood in the back of the chamber, invisible to all watching the scene unfold before him. He could not find it in him to sympathize with the Elleth nor the human before him. His unseeing eyes were truly blind to their suffering and to the beauty of Luthien. Instead the sightless emeralds turned upon the silvery face of Thurichel who sat beside the throne of Namo, tears falling from red rimmed eyes. He wished to go to her and comfort her, hold her in his arms and kiss her tears away. For to him her soul was more beautiful than even that of Luthien Tinuviel.


	12. FIRST AGE 472A

YEARS OF THE SUN  
>FIRST AGE 472<br>PART 1

It would later be known as The Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Minorniel would hold the pain of that battle deep in her heart for the rest of her life. The great host of Elves, Edain, Dwarves, and Easterlings would have lived that day and the war against Melkor would have even been won if it weren't for the treachery of men. Brother against brother, friend against friend.

Though Gurthchir had commanded her to stay far from the fighting Minorniel found herself inexplicably drawn in. The surviving force was now in full retreat, the warriors of the now fallen Fingol, son of Fingolfin and High-King of the Noldor, covering the escape of Tugon's host of elves sent from Gondolin. They had made a living wall a few hundred feet behind her, at it's forefront Hurin, slaying trolls as if he were born doing it. Minorniel was sure that if any survived the battle, his valor would be an inspiration to future generations for ages to come.

Kneeling down beside the body of a young elf Minorniel made quick work of releasing the elf's soul from his body. She could not remain still long or risk being seen. Fluttering from place to place seemed to give her shimmery appearance less form and certainty so that those around her would hardly know she was there. It also reduced her chances of becoming injured, she was in a dangerous position. Though she didn't truly appreciate how dangerous until a sharp arrow shredded her shoulder, making Minorniel drop the dagger and scream in pain.

Her hand went instinctively to her left shoulder, blood gushed out from beneath her fingers. It felt as though the arrow had split open the flesh connecting her trapezious to her deltoid. Falling to the ground among the dead Minorniel's world went in and out of focus. She'd never experienced such excruciating pain before. The piercing sensation in her shoulder was so intense she didn't even register that someone had lifted her into the air until her arm was jostled, making her whimper in pain and shift uncomfortably.

"Don't move," a melodic voice commanded. Minorniel instantly froze at the unfamiliar voice, blinking her eyes and looking up. A silvery halo seemed to surround him, it took her a moment to realize that the halo was really his hair, splattered with blood and grime but shining like the moon face was set with grim determination and he ran quickly along leaving the wall of elves far behind. He did not spare her another glance and Minorniel found tears seeping out from the sides of her eyes every time her shoulder was bumped. It didn't take long for her to pass out from the pain.

Gurthchir moved from body to body with the kind of practiced speed borne of life long repetition, or in his case, ages long repetition. He paid the war blossoming around him no mind. It was nothing new and nothing of consequence. Mortals seemed inexplicably destined to fight with one another. Elves easily led astray, their loyalties ever flimsy. He was incapable of finding it in his heart to feel pity for those who so willfully put themselves in such a position. Yet he reserved judgment upon them out of his experienced wisdom that there were some things he was incapable of feeling and therefore unable to understand. After all, if such a trivial thing as war, or the heartbreak of Luthien and Beren could cause Thurichel so much pain as to make her weep then perhaps there was something of consequence to this earthly suffering. Though he found such a suspicion doubtful.

With a frown Gurthchir bent over an elven body, noticing the severed chain. He had not freed this captive soul. He did not bother to take the time needed to recount in his mind every soul he had thus far released —his memory had been perfect for eons— but rather skipped ahead to the logical conclusion. If it hadn't been him it had been Thurichel. His frown deepened and he looked around worriedly. He had specifically instructed her not to get close to the fighting.

A glisten of white metal caught his eye and Gurthchir moved quickly to the object of his attentions. His insides tied themselves into knots as he lifted Annaengurth from the ground. Every fiber in his being screamed to him to go and find her, protect her, keep her at his side always. But his sense of duty and knowledge of what would happen should he forsake his eternal commission kept him from moving an inch. Sliding his sword into its sheath Gurthchir tightened his grip on the dagger and increased his pace.

Minorniel couldn't feel her left shoulder. When she attempted to move her hand there to feel it another hand caught hers. Long-fingered, roughly calloused, warm, and large; a man's hand. It guided her's back to her side. Slowly she became aware of the noise of many people moving about her, the clinking of armor, the crackling of fires, the wind rustling the fabric of tents. With a great amount of effort Minorniel was able to open her eyes. A silvery halo greeted her once more and and Minorniel blinked to clear her eyes of blurriness. The elf who had rescued her sat there, his face impassive as they examined each other. Long silver hair fell freely past his shoulders, blue eyes piercing her gray ones. Such a strange color, thought Minorniel, she had never seen an elf with blue eyes. Most of the Noldor had gray ones.

Her eyes roamed from his face to the scene around her, she was lying beneath a large open ended tarp, suspended over many other wounded bodies. Healers were moving back and forth among the elves, doing their best to help keep them comfortable. Outside of the overhang she could see other elves circling around campfires and helping pitch tents. The sight was grim, no one smiled, the usual cheer and merriment that Minorniel had come to expect among elf gatherings was absent. They had lost a great battle, one that should have been victorious.

"They are returning to Gondolin." Came a pleasant baritone voice. Her eyes flickered back to the silver-haired elf beside her.

"_They_...?" She asked softly.

"I return to Doriath." He answered, and he seemed much happier at this thought.

"Who are you?"

"Celeborn*, Prince of Doriath."

"My Lord," she said quickly, inclining her head. He waved away her gesture as unnecessary.

"And you...?" He asked when she gave no further explanation, though the question was more of a command. Minorniel knew that this was an elf who was used to getting what he wanted.

"I am Minorniel," she said softly, feeling rather common. She had no great rank or title.

"And how is it you came to be in the midst of battle?" He examined her critically and Minorniel did her best to keep from blushing. She was still wearing her customary black dress, cinched at the waist by her silver belt with a misty white stone set in its center. Her hair had been pulled back in a hip length braid, a soft pink ribbon sprouting tiny blossoms weaved into it.

"I..." Minorniel hesitated, her gray eyes slipping from his to drop to her lap, her fingers fiddling with her dagger sheath that was wrapped around her hip. Eyes widening she gasped in terrified shock as she realized the dagger was missing. "Annaengurth!"

"What?" Celeborn frowned. Minorniel closed her eyes and groaned.

"He's going to kill me."

Glorfindel's head whipped around at the exclamation, he recognized this voice. This voice that had been silent for nearly two decades and eluded him for over a century. He had been passing the tent for the wounded, carrying firewood towards his own site when the voice had rung out. Dropping the logs, all thought of duty and need left him as he strode quickly into the tent, his eyes alighting on silver hair. Lord Celeborn. Celeborn and two other warriors had been the only warriors to join the battle from Doriath. Glorfindel's eyes shifted to rest upon the elleth laying beside him, bandages wrapped around her left shoulder. Were they kin?

"Minorniel," he breathed and her eyes flickered to him. He watched her swallow uncomfortably, a look of trepidation crossing her face. Celeborn swiveled in his seat and nodded to him.

"Lord Glorfindel," he greeted. Glorfindel nodded in return but didn't take his eyes off of the elleth for fear she would disappear once more.

"My Lord," she said softly her eyes unsure. He smiled at her in an attempt to relieve her fears.

"I believe I asked you to call me Glorfindel upon our last encounter."

"Glorfindel," she corrected herself.

"You have met before?" Celeborn asked, raising a delicate eyebrow.

"Briefly," Glorfindel answered his smile fading slightly. "Are you kin?"

"Nay," Celeborn said still looking between the two. "I have only just met her, she was wounded in the midst of battle, I know not how she came to be there."

"She has been a long wondered mystery to me," Glorfindel stated his eyes not leaving hers. Minorniel found herself looking down with a deep blush.

"It appears you have much explaining to do my Lady," Celeborn said, his regal gaze allowing no disagreement. Glorfindel's bright eyes also pressed her for answers until she felt she was drowning in their depths.

"I can't tell you," she said, although Gurthchir had never explicitly forbade her from revealing who she was he had never spoken of her origins to any and his dislike of the Lord of the Golden Flower did not encourage her to reveal herself to him. Glorfindel's face fell and it made Minorniel's heart quiver in her breast and she just wanted to embrace him.

"And now do you disappear once again?" He asked, sinking into a chair beside her.

"No... maybe. I know not." She frowned, Gurthchir could be anywhere, but she couldn't imagine him completing his work for many days yet. It wasn't fair, that he should be bound to free the dead all alone, but Eru had created Elves to be immortal. It was only the world's love of warfare that made it so.

"Then your departures are not of your choosing?" This appeared to make Glorfindel happier and set butterflies free in Minorniel's stomach. He wanted her to stay.

"If it had been within my power to remain, would I could tarry a while," she answered evasively.

"This time you shall remain," he told her with surety, squeezing her hand reassuringly. His touch set her on fire. Celeborn was less convinced by this and she could feel his gaze watching her calculatingly.

"My Lord Celeborn," an elf called to him from beyond the tent. Celeborn nodded to him and stood to take his leave.

"It is time I return home," he said bowing to them both. "I yearn for the peace and serenity of Doriath."

"Thank you," Glorfindel said sincerely. And Minorniel admired his firm sincerity and regal countenance. How had she forgotten the way his jaw set in his seriousness, or the glimmer of his eyes, or the strong rippling muscles beneath his tanned skin? "May the stars shine brightly upon your journey, and may you be guarded from harm."

"My Lord," he nodded in appreciation and looked down at her, "My Lady."

"Thank you for rescuing me," Minorniel thanked him. He smiled at her.

"Of course." As Celeborn walked away her eyes traveled back to Glorfindel who grinned brilliantly at her.

"So you don't know when you will leave?"

"No."

"But you do have to go?"

"Yes." That dampened the smile, but only for a moment.

"Then we shall have to make the most of it now." He exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "How is your shoulder?"

"It's still hurts," the arrow had badly injured the top of her shoulder, slicing it open. Fortunately it had not penetrated deeper into her flesh. She could not yet move her shoulder and it was less numb than it had been previously. Bussling about he retrieved a length of cloth and helped her construct a sling for her arm. His large hand pressed against the small of her back assisting her in sitting up. She wondered if he had any idea what his touch did to her. With his hand moving to her waist he helped her up from the bed, past the disapproving healers, and out into the sunlight.

Minorniel's bliss at being in the arms of the elf she had deeply cared for most her life was muted quickly by the sadness and hopelessness of those around her. She could feel the grimness retuning to Glorfindel as well as the muscles in his arm tensed and his grip on her waist tightened. The battle had been lost after all. How had she forgotten? Even Glorfindel's presence was not enough to keep the pain of death and defeat from welling up inside her. She leaned against him heavier her heart burdened. He squeezed her comfortably but remained equally grim. He understood the full consequences of their defeat. Nothing now stood between Morgoth and his conquest of Middle-Earth. His darkness would spread to every corner plunging the land into death and despair. They had been the last hope and they had failed. There were now not enough Elves or Men combined to match his dark forces.

"What will you do now?" Minorniel asked softly, her voice full of sorrow. Glorfindel looked down at her and smiled. She found it comforting, and yet was struck by ho odd it was that he stood half a head taller than her, she was usually nearly level in height with elf men.

"We shall return to Gondolin," he began slowly, steering her towards his tent amid many odd looks from other elves of his house. "I will prepare my house for war, it is likely it will come, sooner rather than later. Morgoth is bound to find Gongolin, however well hidden it might be."

As they entered his spartan tent his arm dropped from around her and the loss of warmth and safety was immediate as if Minorniel had been thrust out into the cold dark. Her fingers caught his in an immediate reaction and she looked at him with wide fearful eyes. If Morgoth could conquer Middle-Earth she knew his next step would be to attack the Undying Lands. His warm eyes found hers and he lifted her hand to his mouth brushing his lips against the back of her knuckles comfortingly.

"The bravest act we might endeavor to make in this time of darkness, is simply to have hope." His rich voice washed over her and Minorniel could feel all the ages and wisdom behind his golden-brown eyes and she found her own heart taking courage at his words.

"I must see to my warriors and report to the king," he said, letting her fingertips slide from his with great hesitation. "There are not many comforts here, but you are welcome to what little I have. I will return."

Watching him walk from the tent was one of the hardest things she had yet to do. Minorniel was struck with fear at the thought of Gurthchir appearing now and taking her while he was away so that he would find only an empty tent and more unanswered questions upon his return. Shaking her head she remembered logically that it had taken a week for them to free all the spirits after the Battle of Sudden Flame, and the casualties were much greater here. Although whether more elves had died or whether more dwarves and men she could not say for certain. But a week. It would be at least a week before he would come for her. And Minorniel know he would not come a moment before all the elves were freed to venture to the Hall of Mandos. He was a creature of duty and discipline.

Lowering herself to the ground Minorniel kicked off her dark slippers and allowed pale feet to feel the comfort of the grass that covered the floor. The tent was a military one, made for shelter, not comfort, and there was no bottom to it. His bedroll was spread out near her but she could not bring herself to sit on the soft blankets, just the thought of it made her blush. It was still his bed after all. Instead she slowly and painstakingly unraveled her hair from the braid, the effort made much more difficult with one hand, but her fingers were long and nimble and her hair soon flowed free to pool on the ground in dark silky waves. Running fingers through her hair she slowly untangled it although there were not many to begin with her hair being so fine it rarely bunched together.

Glorfindel returned from the council not greatly heartened, the loss of lives being greater than he had dared fear. And yet as he pulled back the flap of his tent the sight of Minorniel sitting there barefooted gently combing out her hair could do nothing but bring a peaceful smile to his face. She looked up at him and smiled, only able to hold his penetrating gaze for a moment before looking down, long lashes gracing pale cheeks. Her bashfulness nearly made him laugh.

"You are a vision to behold." He told her as he began removing his armor. Minorniel's heart jumped with pride at his compliment and she watched him unashamedly as he stripped down to his pants and linen shirt. His well toned body was evident beneath the thin clothing and Minorniel could not help but stare. Glorfindel did laugh at that and Minorniel looked quickly away blushing. Observing her for a moment longer he came to sit next to her, brushing her hair back from her face. Minorniel couldn't help but retract from his touch slightly, instantly aware of the unfamiliar intimacy of their situation and not entirely comfortable with it. The only man to have ever gotten near her was Gurthchir but she had known him all her life.

"How old are you Minorniel?" Glorfindel asked with a frown, she acted as if no one had ever treated her this way. Glorfindel had assumed her ages old, hidden knowledge brimming from behind her gray eyes, yet her actions belayed his assumptions.

"One hundred seventy seven." She said defensively and Glorfindel sat back and ran a hand through his hair staring at her in shock.

"You are a child."

"I am not," she replied indignantly, turning her chin up slightly at her injured pride. "I am of age and well past now. And how old are you to say such things?"

"I was born before the first rising of the sun." He said smiling at her annoyance. He could see her eyes widen at his response. "I am well over two thousand years now, in truth I have not thought about it for many a century."

"How can one not think about it?" She asked amazed. She had no idea he was that old although it made sense, he would have had to have left Valinor with the Noldor in the years of the trees.

"After your first thousand birthdays it becomes redundant," he smiled before sighing. "I imagined you much older. Your mystery demanded it. I thought you a spirit from the creation of the world."

"I was only a child the first time I saw you." She reminded him and his gaze penetrated her to the core.

"You were barely visible. I could not tell. It was by your hair I next knew you." Reaching up he let a strand slide through his fingers.

"I am sorry to have so deceived you my Lord." He laughed at this and it warmed her from the core of her being.

"You are forgiven my Lady." He teased. "But for now we must both rest, I have an extra bedroll you might use. Tomorrow will be an early day, we make for Gondolin with all haste."

* * *

><p>*No, Celeborn was not at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, there were two elves from Doriath (Mablung and Beleg), but I decided to put him there because I wanted him to meet Minorniel early on so HA.<p>

Also, I completely made up Glorfindel's age. No one knows his exact date of birth but it was sometime buring the Years of the Trees, which is accounted for in Valian years which = to 9.582 sun years. He was probably the son of either Irme or Findis, the daughters of Finwe and Indis. I decided he was probably born around the same time as Fingon (son of Finarfin and Earwin), and so would be at most 2,580 or so years old at this point. So there was logical thought to the age I chose for him but most elves don't care that much about how old they are anyways so I figured he wouldn't know exactly off the top of his head.


	13. FIRST AGE 472B

YEARS OF THE SUN  
>FIRST AGE 472<br>PART B

The arrival at Gondolin was within the week and Minorniel found her emotions split by this. She couldn't deny her enjoyment at being able to bathe and wear fresh clothes but she had enjoyed clinging to Glorfindel on the back of his horse. Yes, she would certainly miss that. And she would also miss sitting with him in his tent at night as he recounted tales of his life to her or tell her of the trees in Valinor before he had left. Now propriety dictated her own room, but she did not mind too much. He came to visit her often when his duties permitted.

Though her shoulder still hurt the healers of Gondolin were skilled and it had mostly healed, at least enough so that she didn't have to wear a sling. Minorniel appreciated this, she felt much more beautiful without it.

Leaning against the balcony Minorniel observed the beauty of Gondolin, sunset washing over the white walls, cradled within the mountains. Waterfalls streamed from the cliffs and the air was crisp and fresh and clean. Yet all the beauty paled in comparison to Valinor and she found herself missing her home. She had never been gone so long and she desired to see her friend Eonwe and tell him of her adventures as well as the piercing green eyes of Gurthchir. She wondered about him often half hoping he would come for her half afraid he would. She just hoped she would have the opportunity to say goodbye before she left.

A hand on her shoulder interrupted her musings and Minorniel looked up and smiled at Glorfindel who looked down at her happily. The setting sun made her pale skin glow and the pale pink dress she wore brought light and life into her eyes. Her hair fell freely about down past her hips in long silky tendrils. He never tired of running his hand through her soft hair and he did so now before bringing his hand back to rest against her cheek. She smiled at him, her eyes unsure but her heart fully committed. Glorfindel knew he shouldn't be so forward but was terrified she would disappear any moment. Her extended stay was a blessing he could not help being thankful for but he did not expect it to last much longer.

Holding up his other hand he presented to her a small bundle of wildflowers he had plucked on his return home, some golden, some pink, some white, all beautiful. She grinned in delight, grasping them delicately and smelling their beautiful fragrance.

"Thank you."

"Of course," he affirmed, cupping her cheek, he caressed her face with his thumb and Minorniel closed her eyes longingly. Glorfindel wondered if she had any idea what she did to him with an expression like that. Slowly, half hesitantly, he lowered his face to her pressing his lips softly and briefly against her soft pink ones as if afraid she would disintegrate at his touch. Pulling back he looked in her eyes and saw the excitement and happiness he felt and the disappointment of having the kiss end all too soon. With a grin the elf Lord moved his hand to the back of her neck, taking hold of her more firmly and kissed her again, his other hand pressed against the small of her back, pulling her against him. Minorniel's own hands wrapped delicately around his neck, playing softly with his golden hair. The bouquet of flowers fallen to the ground forgotten.

From the shadows Gurthchir watched them, his hand at his chest as if something within had shattered. After days and days of working as hard as he could, as quickly as possible he had come to find her, desperately worried about her safety. Only to find this. He felt betrayed and belittled and hurt. But it wasn't unexpected he reasoned, indeed he should be happy for his friend. The man she loved appeared to return her feelings. Yet he couldn't find the strength within him necessary to muster such feelings.

Turning his eyes to a flower growing from a vine on the wall he stared at it hollowly. Were such trinkets, fleeting and useless though they were, of such great value? He had never looked at flowers in such a way. Here today and gone the next he had always considered them rather pathetic and insignificant though he did like it when Minorniel wore them in her hair. Reaching out he plucked one delicately from the vine and watched with reserved horror as it, and the vine with it, whithered at his touch into a craggy brown shell. Dropping the flower suddenly as if stung Gurthchir looked one last time at the two elves locked in their embrace before turning stiffly, crushing the dead flower beneath his heal.

Glorfindel drew away from Minorniel only at the sound of a member of his household calling for him. Looking down at the blushing and breathless elleth still locked tightly in his arms he observed her flushed face with satisfaction, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"I must go."

"Return soon," she pleaded and he leaned down and kissed her one last time.

"As my Lady commands." he grinned, disappearing so quickly she nearly fell from the sudden lack of support. With a brilliant smile she began to wander back to her room, her eyes drawn to a dead vine hanging on the wall. Her smile fell quickly from her face and Minorniel froze before rushing to her chambers, hoping she might find him there. And at the same time wishing him gone.

As she burst in she found nor sensed any sign of him but a glimmer on her bed drew her eyes and she saw Annaengurth laying there. Walking slowly to it she lifted the dagger staring sadly at it's icy blade. Sitting on the bed she felt hollow inside, torn between the two worlds. Was this how the exiled Noldor felt? For indeed she was now among them. Gurthchir had left her.

* * *

><p>I know it's short but I really wanted to get this plot twist out there. To be honest I'm not super in love with this story it's actually a prequel to a different one I'm writing but it's helping me get all my thoughts in order for the next one which is also a GlorfindelxOC which I hope you'll all read. This one will go right up to the start of the third age.<p> 


End file.
